Laundry Rooms Change Lives

Lisa Jo Baker posted a writing prompt for #FiveMinuteFridays on her website last week after an exciting collaboration where she and her readers banded together and raised funds to provide a clean water site and laundry facility for women in a community in South Africa, from where Lisa Jo hails. If you are feeling inspired by her writing prompt, feel free to join in and link up, and take time to read through some of the other entries from women doing the same.

I knew after reading what she shared about the laundry outreach in SA that her writing prompt would be the word "laundry."  I mean, it had to be.  At first tons of mismatched socks ran through my mind, along with daydreams I have frequently about donating half of our clothes just so we don't have as much laundry.  Then I thought about sharing how, on days when I remember and am intentional, as I fold fluorescent shorts and shirts, pair dozens of black socks, and linger extra long on soft, snuggly footed jammies, how I pray for my family, and fold, and fold.  Praying for their hearts to long for and know God the way He desires to be known, not tainted by the world or fundamentalist religion, but by faith which is bigger, and deeper, more pure, how He intended.

But then I remembered a laundry room from years ago where not only was my life transformed, but the lives of many college students were, as well.



Laundry, GO!

My husband and I lived in a laundry room for 5 years.  I was a Resident Director at a college in St. Paul, MN, and part of the job requirement was to live on campus, amongst the students with whom I spent my days, meeting, listening, praying, crying, laughing, and growing.  And, in order to access our little apartment, we had to walk through the dorm laundry room.  Being a builder's kid, I knew this was an architectural afterthought, but it worked for us, and the low, steady hum of the machines actually provided for a quiet refuge on our side of the walls.

Not only could we do 4 loads of wash all at once, but we could turn around, pump the machines full of quarters, and have everything dried and finished in just 2 short hours.  I won't lie when I say, I kind of loved it.

But what I loved even more than having all of our laundry done in a snap were the conversations which took place over the tables in that laundry room to the hum of the machines.  Girls would come sit with me to talk about life and love and God and relat

ionships and dreams and disappointments, past memories, hurts, passions, confusion.  Prayers were prayed in that laundry room.  The Holy Spirit showed up there many days, hand in hand, praying over these future world changers, knowing and humbled God had trusted these amazing young women into my pasture for a short time, grateful I wasn't deterred by the environment, but seizing it as a space where supernatural heart change could take place, not only in their hearts, those seeking, but in mine, their leader and confidant, hungry to know God more and to seek Him for their sake and mine.

Of course dirt can come out of soiled clothes in a laundry room.  Every Friday for 5 years it did.  But I also know my ministry was launched from that little laundry room in St. Paul, Minnesota.  It's there I learned, in airing my dirty laundry, it provides a space for other women to feel free to air, and clean out, their own.

STOP!

Eucharisteo

This past weekend I went to a women's retreat where I knew a handful of people and only a handful of people knew me.  I enjoyed the time with these women, met a few new ones, but did not feel responsible or guilty for not finding out the stories of the other 100 women in attendance.

It may sound strange to you, like I didn't care about those other women or something.  And, truly, in the past, this would have been weird for me.  Previously I would have learned the names of every woman at the retreat and taken time to learn at least 1/2 of their stories if time allowed.

However, this retreat was different.  I went into it with intention, intention to trust God had something good for me, for my heart, that He would be faithful to meet me where I was, even though I didn't even know it myself.  It was through a church we kinda sorta, only once in a while attend. Once I went to an official women's ministry event (with dim lights and I was able to slip in and out, unnoticed).  At the retreat, I didn't know which women helped with the ministry team or planned our weekend away, but I'm sure grateful they did.  I simply went because a friend of mine was flying in to share, and I threw it out there to a couple friends who went along, too, though they knew no one, either, and weren't sure what to expect.

Me and my sis, playin'

We played on the playground during free time and now I want one of these in my back yard...

I. Am. In. Love. With. Aspens.

Mmmmm, smell the pines!

Room and car, mates :) Refreshing, to the heart, inspiring women, these girls...

Celeste Barnard shared her story and heart with us.  This girl was on fire!  I hope she inspires you one day, too!  I was so happy for her as she was able to share her first book with us, which you can find here.  

It was refilling to attend a women's ministry event I had no part in planning.  I love gathering women together, as it's my passion and the way I've been wired.  But I didn't realize how much my dried out heart needed a bit of refreshing, and it came...now I can't wait to plan a weekend for other girls...

So, in keeping with the theme of thankfulness each week, I'd like to share gratefulness from my weekend away:

• A retreat center nestled Rocky Mountainside, the setting still sprinkled with vibrant yellow aspens amongst the thriving green pines
• A gluten free chocolate cupcake upon arrival
• A friend willing to share her story with authenticity in order to pave the way for healing in other women's lives
• A husband who sees, and benefits from, the value in Mama getting some time away to refresh
• An intimate, good, and gracious God who knew the parts of my heart which longed for refilling, but didn't even know how to cry out to Him for what I didn't know I needed
• A basketball, friends, and a sunny court to pretend we were back in High School
• A chain hung porch swing overlooking miles of mountains topped in white snow
• Hours of car time to learn more deeply the stories of the beautiful women on this same adventure
• Having God speak directly to me, those thoughts and ideas smarter than I could ever think of
• Hugs and kisses upon my arrival home

Not only is there value in women gathering outside of the day to day routine, but there is value in the quiet refreshing which comes when we are intentional about saying, "No" to the routine, for a short duration, and saying, "Yes!" to whatever God may have in an outside quiet space.  This doesn't mean we should steal away for retreats every weekend, nor are we able to escape on vacations when the going gets tough or our hearts are dry.  I believe we can be intentional with God at home where nothing particularly profound is happening.  In fact, I believe it's there He encounters us if we stop and look around, giving thanks for the day to day and the little things.  But in this space in time, I'm grateful I jumped on the opportunity to retreat.

Two friends are linking up this week:  Heidi Jo and Heidi Jo.

Lessons from Spain (and other European countries): Ministry Happens in a Bar

I have a new friend who is sassy.  She's also brilliant, sensitive, wise, and discerning, humble and modest, and a fantastic listener.  She is British, 100%, as in, her parents are English, she was born in England, and so that makes her an Englishwoman.  Ryan kisses the back of her hand every time he sees her and addresses her as "Princess."  And she's a girl totally, madly, deeply in love with her Savior.  She is teaching me so very much.

Being from the other side of the Pond, she also likes Scotch, or Bourbon, or Gin, or one of those drinks men who are 60 or older sip in smoky wood paneled clubs with leaded glass windows where Englishmen meet amongst walls lined with leather bound books and trophy deer heads from plaid clad weekends on the hillsides of Europe.

This very statement made some readers wonder if my friend is really even a Christian...seriously, raise your hand if your remember Jesus' first miracle.

Anyway, being a SAHCMFTBIA (Stay At Home Caucasian Mom From The Burbs In America), I've never really embraced my ethnicity one way or another.  Just this morning I had to fill out a form and check the vanilla boring nondescript box labeled, "Caucasian."  Before I was married I at least told people how my maiden name means, "Bible" in German and then I'd break out into "Stille Nacht" or count to 10 in German just to show I still had a little in me.

Since meeting my new British friend, my eyes have been opened a tad more to faith in other parts of the world.  Oh, I've been on missions and studied missions and have traveled for both ministry and pleasure in several parts of the world.  And I know from both studying and travels about major world religions, as well as how Christianity differs from culture to culture, and how cultures differ due to religious influence.

But a few months ago while I sipped a glass of red and my British friend her drink of choice, pouring our hearts out to one another about everything under the sun, she told me how, from living in America for 30+ years, American Christianity and European Christianity vary greatly...

...not in the Message of God's love for mankind, but in the cultural message, which often muddles the Everlasting Message profanely.

In Europe, at least in Britain, she said the Pub on the corner is where people talk about love and life and ups and downs, you know, kind of like a "small group."  It's not demonized as a place to just get drunk, like "Spring Break '89", but rather a place to open up and share life.  It's like, oh, could we say, church.

A forbidden fruit mentality has been fostered in this nation for 100's of years, setting up bars and alcohol as something to be pursued in anything other than moderation, putting an age on it as if that makes a person mature and responsible, and slapping a party mentality on it.

The funny thing is, over the last year or so I've spent quite a bit of time with women who have reached out, seeking an ear, belly up to a bar.  Women who have been hit by their husband, others controlled "Sleeping With the Enemy" style, divorced, separated, suffocating in loveless marriages, some just crying out to be loved by their workaholic husbands, not the men they originally had fallen in love with...women pouring out their hearts over their dreams for their children, their fears, their own personal dreams and aspirations, and the brokenness of their realities.

And we cry, and stop, and pray, right there, belly up, holding hands, eyes closed, seeking God's direction and healing in every situation.


My dad asked me why I couldn't just go to Village Inn, instead...

...ummmm, gross, I just barfed a little typing "Village Inn".  

I'm not trying to fit a conventional ideal of what a woman who loves God with her whole heart and also happens to be in ministry, looks like.  And, I'm also not trying to shock anyone just for shock value.

I'm actually quite tired of the banter and pleasing and grieved to my core of all the talk ABOUT so many other THINGS within Evangelical "Christianity" rather than THE ONE THING, the only true thing, which is:

God is totally and completely in love with you.  That's all.

I don't go to Village Inn because it's gross.  I don't even think I'll choose VI when I'm 89.  If a woman asked me to meet there because she wanted to pour her heart into mine, to see if I'd be a listening ear, then of course I'd go to Village Inn...to listen to her heart.

But that's not where these amazing women have asked me to meet them.  They have asked me to meet them at bars, for a drink, where we can just talk.  Can "talking" happen anywhere else?  Duh.

But if I am to embrace my heritage, then I'm guessing some of my Irish, Scotch, German, Swiss, French, and English ancestors likely had church in Pubs, way back when, across the Pond.  And I'd venture to guess their hard-working lives were more authentic and vulnerable than the facades of perfectionism Evangelical "Christianity" has set up here in the "New Country."

And if I'm to truly embrace what it means to lay down my life and follow Christ, to allow my life to be a source of His love poured out, in spite of me, then I also need to embrace the beauty that sometimes women's ministry happens in a bar.

An Exercise in Writing

I've been a bratty "writer."  And by that, I mean, I love writing, I do it when I'm inspired, sometimes I'm inspired when I don't have access to a computer or even paper, so I "write" in my head, but then it gets lost in my mental cosmos.  But as far as "practicing" I've operated under a bratty opinion of, "I'm only going to write if I'm inspired...otherwise it's so contrived."

Super bratty, but I'm hungry for, and willing to, change.

Except I've been thinking about such a mentality for the last year or so and realized something.  When you practice something, you often get better at it.  Take, for example, swimming.  I started out as a toddler on the side of the pool, only dipping my toes, telling my mom I didn't want to go in the water. We moved to Arizona when I was 6 and were enrolled in swim lessons right away since a pool is mostly standard issue in every backyard, and if not, for sure in every neighborhood.  My first swim class was for "Minnows", aka, little swimmers...beginners getting comfortable with the water.  I know at some point I became a "Shark" and then in time I was on a team, gathering 5th and 6th place ribbons, then 4th and 3rd, then years later State Titles with teammates in High School.

We practiced every day after school from mid-August to the end of November, from 2:30 to 5:00.

A lot of hours, a lot of practice.  Some of it redundant, but building strength and endurance, perseverance, and in some races, excellence.

So, I'm trying to apply the same mentality to writing.  Because I really like writing.  Mucho.  So, recently when I saw on Twitter a post by Lisa-Jo Baker about a writing exercise group link she does on Friday's with readers, I was intrigued.  It's called, "Five Minute Friday," and she gives a prompt, you set your timer, and then write.  And write.  And write until the timer goes off, and then, you stop.  So, I've never done it before, but I'm starting it now.  Like, right now.  And the prompt is:  She.

GO:

She.

She is your mom.  She is your sister.  She is your daughter.  She is your aunt, cousin, grandmother, friend.  Her strength is astounding.  Her smile strengthening, lighting up a room, filling hearts, bringing life and love wherever it's revealed.

There are days when her smile is hidden.  She doesn't realize the power behind its revelation, she is unaware of the life it offers, she doesn't know because it has been darkened, the lines diminished from years of sorrow.  Life unraveling.

We look at her and long for the smile to return to her face.  She has aged, but the lines in her face aren't from laughter but longing.  Worry, wonder, despair, a broken heart.  The lines are deep and they draw her smile, the beauty that was once alive on her face, the lines draw them down.

Look up!  Look around you!  See the sea of faces looking back at you.  These are the faces of family and friends, and we love you.  We are so sorry for the hurts in your heart, the aches you've hidden deep, the memories fresh even though ancient.  We love you and want you to know your sheer existence, the fact that you are here, now, in this space, brings love and hope to us.

Let those lines run deep, not from sorrow, but because of laughter, laughter of days to come, joy in the unknown

STOP.

Wow.  That was a cool exercise.  I practiced writing.  It was kind of crazy to see what came to mind.  I think I'll practice this exercise every Friday.  It only takes 5 minutes, so it's not like I can say I don't have time to write.

If you care to join in the practice, here's the information.  You may leave your writing in the comments section or link your blog post in the linky section (I've never done a "linky" so hopefully it's easy and I can figure it out...), then head to the blogger's site who posted prior to you and read their piece and encourage them.

Have a great weekend! 

And 10 Things I Love About Me

So, last fall I was really humbled to be part of an intimate retreat weekend in Austin, Texas.  I relished in hearing the stories of the women I had never met, as well as cherished the opportunity to reconnect with the girls I knew from various times in my life.  To be honest, just be away from everything and have girl time was what the Doctor ordered.

I love girl time.  (Written language is inadequate a tool for me to convey how much I love time with girlfriends...)

Kristin Armstrong shared some of her own story during our weekend, with authenticity and vulnerability.  She's a fan of Brene Brown, queen of vulnerability, but not only that, she's a fan of girlfriends and especially a fan of when we as women come together and thrive in our uniqueness. 

I still carry many treasures from that weekend, but one I keep coming back to is how Kristin asked each of us to think for a while, to remember way back when, to our first memory of really feeling alive doing what we loved to do.  Like, "when you were a kid, what was your favorite thing to do?" type of question. 

And then, basically, what your first memory of your favorite thing was is how you were designed/wired/created...how God made you..."what you would thrive in being when you 'grow up'."

My memory of when I first felt alive was on the playground in elementary school.  I could picture it clear as day, and I could see myself, gathering girls.

Photo: www.katu.com "Portland Park Series"

I wanted everyone to belong.  My heart hurt when other girls felt left out.  I still remember the names of some of my classmates...the ones other kids made fun of for different clothes, different ticks, different skin color.

I felt most alive and the deepest joy when swinging on the monkey bars or climbing the Rocket Slide with all the girls.  It made my heart happy when we ALL played Chinese jump rope or Double Dutch, taking turns.  Even though only two could go at a time, I loved taking turns on Wall Ball, Tether Ball, and on the swings.

The 80's were good on the playground.  Photo: www.egotvonline.com

For me it wasn't hard to believe we could all just get along.  Even if we had disagreements, I knew deep down in my heart the playground was for everyone...Krissy, Swati, Kari S, all of us.

It wasn't just for the whoevertheheckdecideswhoispopular kids.

And so, even if some days I sit on my floor and cry because I'm stuck and not in love with myself, because of your encouragement and God's love for me, I woke up to this reminder this morning.

Here are 10 Things I Love About Me and I have even gone to my counseling appointment, wink, wink:

1. I am a peacemaker.  "You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight.  That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family."
2. I love to build bridges between women.
3. I actually do love to play on the playground.
4. I love listening to the stories of other women.
5. I love to see a woman living in complete freedom...to me, it's one of the most beautiful sights to behold.  There's nothing she can't do...
6. I love how much my heart is capable of loving my husband and kids.
7. I love time with girlfriends.
8. I'm really good at making soup from scratch.
9. I love to sew and design and create clothes and jewelry and decor.
10. I will always believe the best about you, because we all have a story...

*I won't lie, writing this list took me a lot longer than my "hate" list.

I challenge you, not just to do this exercise, but because it will encourage others, as well:  in the comments, write 10 Things You Love About Yourself.

Ready, go...

Girlfriends, part 3

And then I met them...

Women from coast to coast.  Beautiful women with beautiful stories.  And, by “beautiful” I mean, real, candid, authentic, raw, not watered down, genuine, broken, not shattered, but broken wide open to reveal true heart and true grit.  My kind of real.  No sunshine blowing, yet tons of laughter and joy.  No competition amongst us, yet damn strong fighters.  Beautiful, beautiful women.  New girlfriends.  I am humbled I had the opportunity I did to be there with them all in that space and time.

On Saturday my friend Jessica introduced Kristin Armstrong to the group.  In her intro she shared a bit about her own love of girlfriend-time and a time in her life when she was really feeling drained without it.  This is the counsel a minister gave to her:  

He said, “Girlfriends are sacred.  They are part of your spiritual formation.” 

I wrote that down in ink and on my heart.  Wow!  The retreat could have ended right there for me!

Then, when Kristin shared with us, in her fabulous young 41-derful years, she spoke as a peer, unassuming and so candid, yet her wisdom was that of a true and faithful friend of 100 years.  She set the tone for authenticity.  It was a safe place for all of us to share, and that we did. 

Each one of us went around and shared our hearts.

And then she said it... 

…the hook, line, and sinker of the whole weekend for me, driving home what Jessica had stated earlier…

Kristin said, “Having girlfriends is not a luxury, it’s a necessity.  It’s mandatory.” 

(She wrote it out more thoroughly here on her blog...)

She also told us how she has recently boycotted the word, “Busy,” from her vocabulary, as well as not allowing her friends to use it around her, either.  Of course we’ll ALWAYS have stuff to do, places to go, blah, blah, blah, but the truth is, since deep heart friendships with women are sacred, we need to make the time.

This year God’s been teaching me to love myself.  As I mature, if you will, each year, I will say I am more and more self aware of my needs or desires, here on earth.  Clearly I need water, some food, shelter, a pair of jeans and comfy flip-flops.  But in order to be a better me, I also need:  time to quietly sit with God’s word each morning, hot mug in hand; date nights out with my husband; and couch-time snuggling with my 10 year old daughter as we dig into a great book.  And, I need to kiss my son on his neck and cheek, smell him and then tickle him so I can hear laughter from deep in his belly, a laughter I’m not able to conjure up on my own most days because I’ve seen too much.  I need solitude, too.  

And I need time with girlfriends.  It’s not always going to look like a weekend away without any responsibilities.  I know that.  But time with friends is something I long for and something from which I walk away refreshed.  I’ve loved it ever since I was a little girl and still cherish it as a grown-up. 

So here’s our takeaway:

• ·       Girlfriends are sacred. 
• ·       They are part of our spiritual formation. 
• ·       Girlfriends are NOT a luxury.
• ·       Time with girlfriends is a necessity. 

If the word "Busy" were deleted from your vocabulary, is there something else that is holding you back from spending time with life-giving friends?  It doesn't have to be hours on end...even just a half hour is a step in the right direction.

It's time for women to start building bridges for friendships to be nurtured and grow.  Imagine a world where healthy, beautiful friendships were everywhere we looked because they were established on trust and authenticity.

We all have stories...What is yours?

The world doesn't need more superficial relationships based on mistrust and name brand jeans.  The world needs women who are willing to go deep, women who are willing to cherish one another.

Yep.  That's what it needs...

Now, let's go carve out some time for the relationships in our lives which matter most!

Ready:  GO!

Girlfriends are MANDATORY!

I just got back from Austin, Texas, where I took part in a girls weekend.  Two friends from college, one from the East Coast, another from the West, dreamed it up and decided to invite their friends from around the country to meet in the middle.  Those friends invited friends, and so on, and so forth…

When I originally received the “Save the Date” I thought, “Man, this sounds like so much fun, but: I only know two of the women, I can’t technically afford to go, and what do I do with the kids?”  

I will say this; only knowing two of the women wasn’t enough of a roadblock.  I love women and love meeting new women and hearing their stories…it’s what makes my heart beat, it’s the whole emphasis of my non-profit, Bevy…but, I am a tight wad when it comes to money.  

Okay, so I’m not a tight wad.  I love to share and I think it’s fun to treat others to meals and such, but I don’t like to be a financial burden to my family.  As a wife and mom who stays at home, it’s important to me to financially steward our cash flow (Doing FPU right now...more on that later...).  So yeah, not to sound like a martyr or burden, but I’m not a huge fan of spending moo-lah on myself when I think of all the other ways it could be spent.  Whah, whah.

 

Anyway…I have to say, the “what do I do with the kids?” question left my mind about as quickly as it entered.  I’m not bragging in the sense of, “In YO FACE!” but my husband really does indeed ROCK.  I knew if I talked to him about this retreat and told him I really wanted to go and felt like I was supposed to be there, he would work with me to make it happen, which would include him making some sacrifices and working from home for at least part of my weekend away.  He knows how much I love to be with girlfriends.

The necessary self-portrait

Where cowboy boots are king...and girls night out mandatory!

With Kim and Jessica, the two friends with "Insane Courage!"

After our time with Kristin

Meeting another bereaved momma-friend

I can’t really explain why I felt like I was supposed to go to this girls’ weekend away, but I knew I wasn’t invited on accident and that whomever God would introduce me to over the course of the time away would fill my heart and inspire me to keep pressing on with the dreams God has put upon my heart for years now.

I can’t even begin to put into words all the things the Lord did in my heart over the course of one hot, but beautiful weekend in Austin.  I’m still processing much of it.  One thing that blessed my heart was the fact that I got to just show up.  I feel like a bit of a slacker writing that previous sentence, but I’ve been a leader among my peers and in women’s groups for as long as I can remember.  I’ve only been to one other retreat that I didn’t plan…and that was 8 years ago.  Ironically, I received the “Save the Date” from my friends, Kim and Jessica, the week after I cancelled a Midwest Bevy Retreat.  It seems I was due for a retreat, but not one I would have to plan or organize. 

I showed up with expectations.  Not expectations of people or that I’d be entertained all weekend, but anticipation of God’s hand in our time together, and for what each of us would take away.  I prayed a lot during the months leading up to September 6-9.  Prayers for my friends who were coordinating the weekend, prayers for Kristin Armstrong who shared with us on Saturday, prayers for all the women whom I had never met but whose stories I would get to hear throughout the weekend, prayers for my girlfriend living in Austin who would join me in the adventure, and prayers for my own heart to take it all in, hear God’s direction and purpose for my life, and to JUST BE!

The weekend exceeded my expectations!  It was a little tough to transition back into my "day to day extraordinary life", but not without hope or a course of action to move forward with dreams He has placed on my heart.

I'm just thankful to Kim and Jessica who took Matt Damon's advice and went for it!

I'm so grateful God knew what my heart needed even more than I did...He's BIG that way!

*What will it take for you and your girlfriends to realize time together isn't a luxury but rather mandatory for your heart?!

The night before I left for my trip, Jason and I had a heart to heart in the corner of the kitchen.  I will share more on that tomorrow…

Blockbuster

Have you ever sat through a movie trailer that intrigued you enough to want to go see it?  If you answered, "yes," that's the point.  It's meant to draw you in so you can learn the whole story.

And then the feature film starts rolling.  The lights are dimmed, you have your goodies in hand, and everyone has silenced their phones, except that one guy.  You sit there, let's say for 20 minutes of this 2 hour feature length presentation, and the plot is building, you are sucked in, and the thought of having to leave even to go to the bathroom you stave off by tightly crossing your legs and denying yourself any more sips of your beverage...you just don't want to miss out on the story about to be revealed.  

Now imagine at the 25 minute mark the lights switch on and the theater manager walks into the packed venue and states, "That's it, people.  The director and producer had big dreams and every intention for this film to be a complete story, but the actors and crew quit showing up after only two weeks of shooting.  So, anyway, we hope you enjoyed the part you were able to see.  Have a good night and thanks for coming..."

I suspect there would be some disgruntled patrons, to say the least.

Imagine if that's what life is like when we don't want to tell our story, don't think it's important to tell, or are waiting for the unlovely, difficult parts to pass before we share.

There is a bigger picture.  We may not know or understand all the details, but it is a story which is unfolding every single day around the world.  A story being told through our lives.  The God of the whole Universe, who loves us with every part of His heart, desires to express His love for all creation through the telling of our stories.  

Because He made us...on purpose.

Can you imagine a world where we stop comparing ourselves to those around us, wishing our lives were a little more like theirs and instead began telling our stories, laced with all the imperfection, pain, and beauty, for the good of God's bigger story?

It's time we all stop cheating the world of who God designed us to be.

It's time to start living the story.


(Here's a little taste of what God's put on my heart.  You'll find out more when I launch my non-profit, soon and very soon...)

If You Ask About a Muffin...

A couple of weeks ago I was looking in the display at a restaurant at what looked like a scrumptious gluten free blueberry muffin.  Of course I knew I wasn’t going to buy it, one because it’s still laden with sugar whether it’s gluten free or not, and two, because like most baked goods, it probably had been made with eggs, my biggest allergen.  But, nonetheless, I asked the girl behind the counter about the muffin.  She said they were amazing but, yes, had eggs and sugar.

Within ten minutes she went from telling me about the gluten free muffin to going Paleo to doing Crossfit to sharing her journey of addiction to alcohol, meth, and food…her son’s health issues involving ADD and ADHD, and how difficult it is to be a single mom, not totally healed of her addictions and how angry she is at God about it.

I listened.  I shared a little bit of my story of disappointment with God and losing a son and my addiction to food, how there is no such thing as a secret, that God's a Big Boy and can handle her anger, and that He’s totally and completely in love with her no matter where she is on her journey.  We exchanged names and I told her I would be praying for her and her son.  And I’ve done so, because just saying it doesn’t mean squat.

As I headed next door to meet my husband and some friends, I felt like an hour had passed learning all that I had.  I hadn't wanted to be rude to keep everyone waiting...

10 minutes.  

Only 10 minutes had passed and as I relayed some of the information I gained from hearing this woman’s heart, my husband’s buddy just looked at me…and then he looked at Jason.  And he said, “You were over there 10 minutes and you found out all of that?”  “Yep.  Everywhere we go.  She can find out your whole life story in 10 minutes.  It’s crazy,” Jason said.  “Teach me,” said his friend.  Jason told him it was a gift.

I think he’s wrong.  Respectfully saying so, mind you.

It’s not a gift.

I just think everyone is worth knowing.  Everyone.

I believe we all have a story and our stories are important.  Even more so, our stories are meant to be told.  Little by little, sharing along the way, telling bits of the story to those ready to listen, and listening to those who are ready to share.

Our stories are never complete.  They don’t have “choose your own ending” and aren’t meant to be compared to the next person’s.  Our stories are on-going, ever-changing and still unfolding.  If we wait for them to reach a place of “peace” or “stillness” or “happily ever after” in order to share, we’ll have missed out on the point...

We are here on this earth for God’s glory.  He gets the glory when we live out the story He has written for us, all the while sharing it with others.  We were designed to share.  Not if we feel comfortable with the task or not, but because in sharing others get to find healing, too.

In my opinion, we need to stop talking and start sharing.

Are you ready to start sharing your story?

Cat fight!!!

Have you ever seen, or been in, a cat fight? Did you know that satan (sorry, I can't get myself to capitalize his name...) loves cat fights? That's right! He loves to stir up jealousy, greed, unforgiveness, strife, comparison, insecurity, and especially discontent among women. As long as he can entice us to focus on what we don't have or why 'she has more of this or that', our eyes are on our circumstances instead of the One who loves us, is faithful to provide for us and has a plan for our lives. The truth is, there will always be someone who has: more money; better clothes; more kids; a better job; a better boyfriend or husband; more friends; a more peaceful family, etc. etc. Instead of wishing we were as talented as so and so, why can't we first see each woman as a uniquely designed instrument designed by God to be part of a magnificent orchestra? Not every musician in an orchestra wants to be a violinist...nor should they be.

Yeah, the devil hates it when women know who they are in Christ. He hates it when we read God's word, but not only that, he hates it when we begin to have the audacity to believe it! You see, even the devil knows God's word. In Matthew chapter 4 we find the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness. Jesus had just fasted for forty days and nights and was hungry. It says, "3The tempter came to him and said, "If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread." 4Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'" In the next verse the devil goes on to actually quote scripture to Jesus. Why wasn't there authority behind the devil quoting scripture? Because the next section of scripture Jesus shows that He worships the Lord God and serves Him only. His heart was not divided. He knew who He was and He knew He had a purpose. We are no different in that we can know who we are in the Lord and we can know His purpose for our lives. However, if our hearts are consumed with who we are not, our minds cluttered with all the what ifs, and our lives filled with things that will only temporarily satisfy, we will never experience the fullness and depth of relationship the Lord intends for each of us.

So, what then? First we can go before the Lord and recognize there is no such thing as a secret when it comes to us actually trying to hide something from Him. We need to be honest with the Lord about our hearts toward ourselves and others. In doing that, it opens a door for us to freedom. Freedom in being able to lay it all at His feet and say, "Let Your kingdom come, let Your will be done." Trusting that He actually knew what He was doing when He designed you. Next, we need to appreciate that it is part of God's design that we are all different. Each of us reflects a different part of God's beauty...we are made by Him, to display His splendor. So, instead of resenting or being jealous of the women we know and meet, let's ask the Lord to show us His heart for each other, how we can pray for one another, encourage them in their gifts, love them the way we are called to love. For some, another step will need to be taken. A step of repenting and asking God, and perhaps another woman or women, for forgiveness...If we are to have God's heart for all women, that will include the ones that we have hated, ones who have betrayed us, ones with different callings or passions or world views.

If we ask God for His eyes and His heart for the women in our lives we will be able to work together, sharing God's love as He intended it. As long as we believe we are actually better than someone else, we will never be used to minister to them. How disheartening to hold onto our grievances to one day learn that the very women we judged were the ones God had called us to love...